


your pleasure understands mine

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Count and Countess purchase the Kama Sutra, F/M, Shameless Smut, because that's so them, with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “My wife is interested in the volume in your window display. May we look at it?” Hannibal explains before turning to said window.“The Kama Sutra?” the man asks with hesitation, “It is a twentieth century edition, a delicate piece,” he adds, almost a warning.





	your pleasure understands mine

It catches Bedelia’s eye while they are walking down the cobbled streets of Prague. A leather-bound volume with red patterns and a singular drawing shining in the window of an antique bookstore. She stops at once and gives it a careful stare with Hannibal standing right next to her, his arm around her hand, watching her, rather than the book display.

“Would you like to come in?” he offers at once and Bedelia nods before guiding him to the door.

The tiny bell rings cheerfully as they enter, announcing the joy of potential buyers and a man appears silently behind a counter as if conjured by the sound.

“Good morning, can I help with anything?” his accented voice is hoarse from misuse, customers must come scarce here.

“My wife is interested in the volume in your window display. May we look at it?” Hannibal explains before turning to said window.

The man follows his gaze, the glasses on his nose falling to its very edge.

“The Kama Sutra?” the man asks with hesitation, “It is a twentieth century edition, a delicate piece,” he adds, almost a warning.

“I am aware of that,” Hannibal responds firmly, taking no notice of the salesman’s tone and already reaching out to the window and gently removing the book. He hands it to Bedelia who traces the picture on the cover with care before opening the volume. Hannibal stands behind her as she turns fine pages, studying the intricate illustrations. The various sexual positions are presented in a detailed manner with an added artistic flair. Hannibal is surprised by the quality of the pieces and wonders what Bedelia makes of them.

“We will take it,” she slowly closes the book and puts it on the counter, answering Hannibal’s unuttered question. It is to her liking. The man’s eyes widen, surprised by the sudden transaction; no doubt he has not expected to sale such an expensive piece.

“Of course,” he moves swiftly to package the book while Hannibal prepares to pay. Soon the book is guarded with layers of wrapping paper and ready for its journey.

“I am sure it will make a wonderful addition to your library collection,” the man comments with a smile, making amends to his previous behaviour and secures the package with a string.

Bedelia takes the parcel without a comment, but a corner of her mouth turns up slowly in a puckish smile. A shiver of excitement rises on Hannibal’s skin while the man behind the counter finds himself at a sudden unease. It appears Bedelia has other plans for the book.

 

They arrive home the following day and the castle welcomes them with a silent expectation of the newly obtained treasures which will further adorn its vast walls and floors. The space seems to grow colder during their absence, like an abandoned lover, but now the rooms fill with light and comfort again, rejoicing in their return.

In the library, the open windows invite the balmy summer breeze with delight, playfully dancing with the curtains and infusing the air with heat and fragrance. Hannibal stands in front of the shelves, organising and rearranging the books to accommodate their newest acquisitions. He finishes placing the last one, leaving one spot free; he decides Kama Sutra will fit perfectly next to Immanuel Kant.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he turns to find Bedelia standing behind him, her unexpectedly bare feet silent against the stone floor, the red volume in her hands. She wears a light, azure dress in keeping with the season, her long locks catching the streams of the sun and turning them to flowing gold, appearing more radiant than the foliage outside. Hannibal smiles and his fingers reach out to the tiny, unruly strand of hair falling on her forehead and tucks it back in its place

“I have made room for the book,” he shows her the shelf with the vacant place. But Bedelia does not appear to be interested in the display, still holding the volume.

“Come, sit with me,” she says enigmatically and moves to settle herself on the sofa with her legs curled up. Hannibal joins her at once, the bookshelves forgotten. He perches down next to her and sneaks his arm around her waist. Bedelia opens the book, studying the artwork anew. Hannibal’s head rests gently on her shoulder as his eyes follow hers, noticing additional details and rich hues of the illustrations, still unsure of her intentions, but enjoying the relaxed moment.

“Pick one,” Bedelia speaks and interrupts his musings.

“Pick what?” Hannibal’s head lifts up while uncommon confusion suffuses his stare.

“A position,” she articulates slowly, her eyes silently judging his sudden lack of comprehension.

Hannibal blinks and beams at her, his lapse of understanding giving way to a flash of excitement.

“And here I was thinking you were merely enjoying the artwork,” he comments and straightens up with expectation.

“What would be the point of that?” she replies, her voice low and kittenish, arousing Hannibal in an instant.

Amending his previous negligence, he nods and makes quick work of turning the pages until he finds what he was looking for. His finger marks the illustration while he looks at Bedelia with a pleased grin. But her gaze falls disheartened and he can see she is somehow disappointed with his choice.

“Are you sure you do not want to select something more _challenging_?” she remarks. But Hannibal is not discouraged.

“This position is called The Tigress,” Hannibal comments while a satisfying smile still pulls at his lips, “There is no better fitting position for a woman like you.” His arm envelops her further, concluding his declaration.

“I did not know you were so _familiar_ with the Kama Sutra,” her tone remains unconcerned, but the faint tension in her body does not escape his notice.

“Only in theory. I enjoy expanding my knowledge in all areas,” his fingers move gently along the curve of her spine, composing a silent melody on the most delicate of instruments, “As do you,” he adds with a meaningful gleam in his eyes.

“I guess we have to work on the practice,” her eyes now sparkle with renew excitement and she presses herself against his body.

“We do,” he kisses her parted lips and she sighs in silent accord. He senses the increasing warmth of her body, radiating through the thin fabric of her dress and amplifying the scent of her skin, now sharper, mixed with muskier notes, a clear indication of her arousal and spurring his own in return.

She finally breaks the kiss and puts her hands on his chest, urging him to lie down. He does so without delay and watches as Bedelia stands up and unzips her dress. The material slides down her skin and gathers softly around her feet, revealing _everything_. Hannibal stares at her naked body, framed by the sun, long lines streaming through the windows and encircling her curves.

“I see you came prepared,” he comments from his vantage point on the couch, enjoying the view immensely.

“You are getting there too,” she retorts, eyes shifting to the visible bulge in his pants.

Hannibal chuckles, her words rousing him even more. Bedelia joins him now, her hand tracing the outline of his erection and smiles when he groans, then lies on top of him and presses herself against his chest. He relishes the softness of her mounds, contrasting with her hard nipples, and suddenly the barrier of his shirt seems unbearable. As if knowing his thoughts, Bedelia swiftly unbuttons and removes the cumbersome cotton and presses her body once more, firmer this time, skin against skin. She swallows his sighs of approval when her lips find his and Hannibal’s hands wander slowly down her back.

But his exploration is cut short when Bedelia pushes herself away and shifts down to discard his pants. She then turns and settles herself abreast his thighs. Her hand strokes the length of him, thumb skimming across the tip, before she sinks down on him, slowly and with deliberation, enjoying the sensation of them coming together as much as Hannibal. He briefly closes his eyes as she stills, revelling in being enfolded by her so tightly.

She reaches back and places her hand on his chest, smiling at him like a huntress on a prowl. Her hand remains firmly planted in the spot as she finally begins to move, flowing up and down, finding her rhythm. Bedelia always proceeds slowly at first, with measured intensity, not hurrying the pleasure and taking her fill. And he does not rush her, his own hands resting idly, leaving her in control of their enjoyment. In control of him. The muscles on her back shift as she increases the pace and Hannibal moans, loudly and shamelessly. The hand presses harder, as much a leverage for her as a way of holding him down. His moans escalate, interweaving with hers, as she rises and falls, emanating like the rays colouring the library. Her locks bob like a sparkling halo around her as she brings them closer to their mutual release.

Hannibal stares at the stream of gold as her body begins to tremble and decides that the Lioness might be a more appropriate name.

 

The following morning, Hannibal stands in front of the bathroom mirror, still naked, finishing his shaving routine. The razor stops when a smell of honeysuckle and a soft swish of silk permeate his senses. Bedelia stands next to him, her back to the mirror, leaning gently against the counter, the familiar volume in her hands.

“That one,” she shows him the open page, “I believe it is called Widely Open, not a very imaginative name,” she adds in an uncaring manner.

“You have done some research,” Hannibal comments with a smile and wipe his face with a warm towel.

“I did not want to be lacking in that area,” she responds coolly, closing the book.

 Hannibal chuckles and folds the towel.

“You know that I have never found you to be lacking,” he responds with all seriousness, “in any area.”

 Bedelia smiles in return and places the book on the counter before taking his hand and guiding him back to the bedroom. Hannibal follows her obediently, but then halts mid-step, making her stop as well. Her head tilts as her gaze turns sullen at his unforeseen change of mind.

He hasn’t changed his mind, of course, but he has become suddenly _curious._

“Why did you select that position?” he asks, holding her stare.

Slowly, Bedelia shifts her head to the other side, pondering her response. Finally, she lifts their palms and interlaces their fingers before moving her hand up his shoulder in a gentle caress.

“I like the way you hold me,” she speaks slowly, choosing her words with care as her hand brushes over his bicep with the same attentiveness, “I like your strength.” Her fingers now trace the muscles of his chest while she falls silent.

Hannibal’s skin hums with charged pleasure as her fingertips elicit sparks with each stroke. He knows expressing feelings does not come easy to Bedelia and his heartbeat increases in pace with each of her words. He smiles at her with affection and leans forward to kiss her lightly. He does not intend to question her further and is suddenly overcome by a deepest need to prove himself and live up to her statement.

He follows her silently as they cross the floor and reach their destination. Bedelia undoes the sash of her robe, letting it fall to the ground like a silent cascade of water. She lies on the bed and turns to Hannibal, hand extended, inviting him to join her. He slides between her legs and sits on his ankles, admiring her body, already tense in silent anticipation.

His hands extend to caress her, broad palms moving slowly across smooth skin, fingers igniting fiery flickers, similar to these she induced in him moments ago. He reaches her breasts, stroking the delicate undersides and she pushes them forward, eager to be touched further. Compliant, his palms cup her mounds, thumbs running over hardened nipples repeatedly and Bedelia moans, more flares setting off within her. She parts her legs wider, revealing velvety folds, a wordless plea for more. Hannibal’s fingers trace the swollen lips, sliding inside at times, and she writhes beneath his touch.

“ _Hannibal_ ,” she whimpers his name while her body twists, making his own arousal twitch with impatience.

He grabs her hips and pulls her forward, entering her in one smooth motion. They both gasp loudly at the desired friction. Hannibal pauses as she wraps her legs around his waist, then places his hands under the small of her back and lifts her body up and towards him. Bedelia gasps again and he feels flashes of elation lighting up beneath her skin. This is what she wanted. She has placed herself and her pleasure quite literally in his hands.

Hannibal begins to move, thrusting in and out, while holding her firmly. Bedelia leans back, wanton and glorious, letting herself go completely and further exposing her breasts to him. She grasps his legs and they move together in perfect sync. Hannibal watches as her body arches further, peaks bouncing, moans slipping through her parted lips. Her skin turns slick, but his grip does not falter as he steers her towards ecstasy. The heat radiating from her core begins to peak and she comes with a deep moan, head falling back, fingers pressing into his flesh.

But Hannibal does not stop, merely thrusts harder and her body responds with eagerness still, urging him on, until she comes undone again, stronger than before, shudders of pleasure racing down her limbs. Only then he sighs his own release. The echoes of their moans slowly disperse, and the bedroom becomes suddenly still, filled with only the sounds of their ragged breathing.

Hannibal’s arms move to enfold Bedelia and he lifts her up to a seated position. They rest cheek to cheek, their heated bodies still pulsing in tempo, their breaths slowing down at last. Hannibal kisses her neck, tasting salt and warmth.

“What position would you like to try next?” he whispers against her skin, ready for further explorations.

“It is your turn to choose,” she responds in the same hushed tone and Hannibal chuckles, his lips meeting hers in a silent mark of agreement.

 

As the days go by, they continue to work through the colourful pages. The book travels between rooms and kindles their imagination, red cover peaking from tables and floors, as Hannibal and Bedelia pursue their pleasure with fervour. No surfaces are left untouched, all serving their purpose and the castle soaks up their passion with an endless joy.

They take turns selecting positions and somehow always put the other person in charge of their fulfilment. Yet they no longer analyse each other’s actions. The therapy years are long gone, now they only follow their hearts, open and eager.

Hannibal’s eyes spark up in anticipation when he stands in the bathroom door and sees his Countess sitting by her vanity, the now overly familiar volume in front of her. Her locks fall softly on her shoulder, smooth silk envelops her arms as her fingers slowly turn the pages. The hand pauses mid-air at times, when something catches her eye, fingers stretching in a sensuous way.

Hannibal wraps the towel around his hips and walks towards her without delay, uncaring for the stream of drops he leaves on the floor. He stands behind her and leans forward, sneaking his arm around her shoulders.

“Have you made a choice?” he asks while his lips press a lingering kiss on her temple. She sighs contentedly and nuzzles her cheek against his. His nose nudges her skin in return, like two cats expressing their affection.

“Yes, I have,” her finger lands on the picture in question and Hannibal’s eyes follow.

“As you wish,” he comments, having instantly memorised the position.

Bedelia stands up at once and kisses him, nipping at his bottom lip, while her hand removes his towel in one swift gesture. His deft fingers peel the robe off her shoulders in a similar fluid manner. As she places her arm around his neck, Hannibal is reminded of the most exquisite dance, the choreography of which they have refined to the point of perfection. He lifts her up effortlessly, firm arms wrapping around her petite frame.

“The bed?” he clarifies the details before proceeding.

“Yes,” Bedelia says as her fingers thread through his hair.

Hannibal’s smile widens and he walks them both towards the bed. It was an excellent purchase, he concludes. And he looks forward to all the other pleasures they will discover together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to kmo for the headcanon which was very inspiring! ♥ Happy Count and Countess enjoying each other, body and soul, is my everything. Writing this gave me a moment of joy I really needed and I hope it will bring a smile to someone else's face too.  
> My 70th work here, long live these two weirdos!


End file.
